SLAMMING A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE

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Betty Graham was leaned against the wall of the venue, her lips closed against the rim of a ginger ale, the boredom of the book party hitting her like a train. Jeremiah and Steven had run away to goof off, leaving Betty stranded with no one to talk to.  Sure she knew most of the people here...but  there was no one she really wanted to talk to. No one that would hold her interest.

She had been staring at the straps of her shoes for what felt like hours, her back starting to ache from leaning against the wall. The side of her head started to burn with the feeling  of someone watching her, the girl lifting her eyes and catching the culprit. Conrad looked away as quickly as he could,  Betty feeling a surge of confidence as she saw the champagne bottle in his hand. Her feet guided her before she made the decision and she was approaching him. It was like she was drawn to him no matter what.

"You gonna share?" She asked in a low and playful tone, her eyes glued to the bottle in his hand rather than him himself. Conrad looked at her with a gleam in his eye, his lips parting as he held the neck of the bottle to his chest. Finally her eyes shifted to his and he saw the look there...playful, amused, nervous. He couldn't help himself but to indulge in her nervousness towards him, the boy grabbing his cup and pouring some of the champagne in it. He breathed in heavily before he extended it towards her, the boy preparing internally for a smile he knew she would give, hoping that it didn't knock the wind out of him when he received it. "Thank you."

And there it was, the smile he had been dreading. He figured that she often forgot that he knew her well...that he knew her mannerisms and what she would do. There was a time where he lived and breathed her, where all he wanted to do was consume any and all information he could from her. Sometimes he still felt that way...but he knew he had never felt that way with another girl since. He had been obsessed, so much so that the smile she was giving him now was imprinted in his brain from the last time she had given it. He felt unsure that she had ever really known how much he had been in love with her, he figured he must have played it off cooler when they were together. But as she sipped the champagne he felt that feeling arise, the one he had told Jeremiah about...and he had no idea where this could go—because it had the potential to become anything and everything.

She took another sip and then a thought seemed to  strike her, the girl pulling the cup back and her eyes glazing over as she spoke.

"Every time I drink champagne I think about that night during Christmas break when we were having a movie night and you took champagne from your parents liquor cabinet for us to drink and—" Conrad seemed to remember the story, his body turning towards her and the corner of his lip rising as he cut her off with a continuation of what she was saying.

"And your mom busted in the room and I threw it out of the open window." The two of them shared a short laugh, their chuckles in sync as they recalled the distant memory. It had been a lifetime ago it felt, and yet standing here beside him she felt like they were recounting something from earlier in the day. Her head tilted and she soaked in the feeling of being given his rare smile, an expression she hardly seen since they had reunited. It seemed genuine, which made it even more of a special occasion, and behind his eyes she could see the memory playing through his mind like a film, reminding him of the good times they had.

"I still can't believe it didn't shatter, we ended up getting so buzzed that night...do you remember?" She spoke as if the night hadn't been a life changing one for him, as if that alcohol hadn't led to his full and complete devotion to her. As if the champagne hadn't opened doors they had never been through before, as if that night hadn't sealed a secret deal between them. His smile hardly faltered but he wondered how she could think he could possibly forget...that night was one of the most important of his life.

"How could I forget it?" He mused in a low tone, his words holding some clandestine secrets that he knew only she could decipher. She noticed her heart had started beating profusely and her cheek warmed, the blush making her dip her head back towards the cup. Although when she went to drink at it she realized it was empty, so she was forced to look back at him, with his meaningful gaze and the millions and millions of secrets it held.

He figured that if anyone looked at him right now, they would see nothing but the fool he had always been, a fool for her. Anyone could see the way his stare held more than simplicity, how it held deep and utter desperate dedication to the girl he set it on. He found himself a moment later revealing too much, a blink of his eyes banishing too much feeling. He noticed she was holding the empty cup, the boy lifting the bottle to pour more champagne into it. He follows it to her lips and wondered internally if she felt this the way he did, if she felt anything at all. If it tormented her the way it did him, if she was being plagued with this insatiable feeling the way that he was. He resented himself for feeling so intensely, for letting her slight motivation to be friendly with him penetrate the walls he had worked so hard to build. The walls he had constructed for her, for the thought of love, for the variation of who he set his affections on. He had never hurt like she had hurt him, and he wondered how he could just let her captivate him like she had done nothing.

"Of course everytime I think of that night—then the memory of the night at Robbie's party comes up." She intercepted the lull of the conversation and spun it into a new direction of reminiscence, her eyes trained on the edge of the cup they had been drinking from. He knew the night she was talking about, the boy wondering why she would keep bringing up such pivotal moments in their relationship if not to just torture him some more. "First time I ever got black out drunk...and you—"

"I was completely sober. Yeah I remember that night too." His chest aches at the thought of the night she was talking about, the girl only remembering bits and pieces of it, whereas he remembered every bit of it. When he looked back on that night he usually told himself he should have known that things wouldn't work out between them... but he had been stupid and in love—he didn't know any better.

"I still don't even remember like 3 quarters of that night. Only what you guys told me. About the ride and then whatever happened when you got me home." Her version of events was nothing close to what he remembered, his lips pursing as he recounted the night for two summers ago.

Betty Graham was shitfaced, it was nearing the end of summer and the two of them were pretty much together every minute.  Except for at this party...he had lost sight of her, he had no idea where she was at all. He remembered finding her passed out on the bathroom floor, her pants still unbuttoned from where she hadn't even gotten to close them after she finished using the restroom. He had thought she was dead at first, only for a second, the initial shock of seeing her in such a bad state and being fully sober making him panic. He remembered leaning down and grabbing her by the chin, turning her head so that he could see her clearly. He was still panicking at this point until she  let out a low groan, her eyes hardly opening and the boy peeking under her lids to try and see if she was even in there.

"Betty...Betty can you hear me?" He had said, his breaths nervous as he tried to start pulling her up. She groaned in response and after a few minutes of hard work her had managed to get her into the countertop to sit, her back against the mirror of Robbie's basement bathroom.  He could still almost feel the way his chest felt like someone was squeezing his heart, their fingers digging into the muscle as he worried about her. He remembered turning the sink on and using water to wake her up, the girl coming to and holding a conversation with him. He didn't remember much of the meaningless small talk but he managed to  get her to quiet down so he could try and figure out how to sober her up. He had gotten a cup of the water and he was about to assist her in drinking it when she had said something he would never be able to unhear, three words that had fucked him ever since. He should've known that if the only time she could admit her love for him was when she was drunk, then maybe they shouldn't have been together.

"You wanna get out of here?" Conrad asked, his grip tightening in the bottle of champagne as the memories made him want fresh air. Betty was stunned by his suggestion and her hesitance cost her her chance, because  the sound of his name cut through their  conversation, and when they both looked they saw it was Laurel calling it. "Never mind I guess. Uh...wait here?"

He sounded hopeful for a moment, like he really wished she would stay there. And it was the look on her face that completely banished that hopefulness, her eyes dropping to her cup before she pushed a hair behind her ear and spoke.

"I uh...I think I'm actually just gonna head home. It's getting late." She said, looking back up at him with an apologetic look. His frown pulled at his lips and he nodded, the girl giving him a small smile and then pushing the cup back into his hand. She closed both of their hands over his for a moment, letting out a small endearing him before she pulled back and turned away, walking away from him again. He thought she was awfully good at that.